Well, it's kinda like this. I know where Eiseley lives, and she's well up the hill from the railroad. And the river, for that matter. Actually, her house is near the Legion Hovel. Not that she has much truck with THOSE sorts, her being a sober, prim, and upstanding lady of the community and all. Why, once a couple of the Legionaires were draped on her front fence, drinking some sort of rotgut and capping Shakespeare lines for the next drink. One of them couldn't identify the play, act and scene of a quote and was getting all hot and bothered about it. Eiseley opened her upstairs window and yelled, "It's two a.m., the quote is from Kemp's 'Nine Daies Wonder' and not Shakespeare, and you two be off or I'll sic the dog on you!"

Rapparee, you are such a snob and a pedant. I was not describing the family shield, merely the finger. Hence, I was not under the constraints of your unduly vaunted formalisms. Furthermore, in order to acheive the error you so wantonly attribute to me, the finger would also have be d'or, and that would infringe Mister Fleming's copyright, now wouldn't it? Of course, I wouldn't expect you to know anything about such arcane matters as intellectual property, as a long-time well-established member of the have-nots.

Impressive, man. Impressive. That was a post number of considerable import.

Being now a proud bearer of the Digitalis Intermediaris on Field d'Or, I intend to make a living by going around and giving lectures to awestruck audiences in places as far afield as Moosejaw and Cornerbrook. And I owe some of it to Amos. A tiny bit of it. Well, hardly enough worth metioning...but, still, let it not be said that I would fail to show appropriate gratitude to those who have made any contribution, no matter how small, to my magnificence. ;-)

Amos, if the rampant digit on a field d'or has no color specified it would be the same as the field and couldn't be seen. Now if you had specified, for example, "Rampant, the middle digit of the left hand sable, upon a field d'or" you'd have the contrast of black on gold. As it is, you have a washout.

My God. Amos has the Order of the Purple Raspberry, the much coveted OPR. He can now wear The Sash and The Medal to appropriate function, such as meeting with the Queen or the President. I assume, however, that it is the OPR Fourth Class, With Leaden Palms. Nothing higher has been given since Spiro Agnew croaked passed away.

Amos....that last post of yours was the apotheosis of quasi-intellectual bafflegab masquerading as genuine communication! Truly astounding. I salute you, sir. You have surpassed the limits of mere turgid and pretentious verbosity at its very best and reached beyond it to the Olympian heights of Unfathomably Ultimate BS!!!! (UUBS) This earns you the Purple Raspberry, a title sought by many, attained by very few indeed.

Ity will not serve you, sir, to try to reduce my fine and delicate insights and inspirations into some ordinary wash of hyper-intellectual conversation by trotting out your Inventory of Literary Cliches for everyone's delectation. No, the genuine article will always stand out, the original glow of New Creation unquenchably surrounding it with a halo of Supreme Quality from which no torrent of mere mental liquidity may ever detract.

Gosh! This thread is really getting near the 40,000 mark. I pray every morning and night that William Shatner will be moved to visit us and grace us with his online presence at the great moment when we cross the line of 40K.

"Youse guys" should try being Shane for a few days. It's so much less complicated, and you'd be spared the burden of having to indulge in these exquisitely arcane and complex exercises in intellectual oneupmanship. ;-D

Amos, are you referring to Petrachean, Shakespearian, Spenserian, or the "undefinable" type of sonnet? Each, of course, has its strengths and weaknesses, especially I suppose in English. The basic English iambic pentameter metric, compared with, say, the Italianate form, does lend itself well to the "Two S'es" forms, but the Petrachean seems to be more in vogue on the continent. And then of course there is the "undefinables"...you might well fit in there.

Geez! That is a pretty cool pitcher you posted there fer my future weddin', Rap. It has got me thinkin' some.

I ain't never been married before. So it might, like, be a cool thing to do, eh?

On toppa that this here Sheryl and her nutcase old man are becomin' a problenm that is way hard to, like, deal with, cos they are flippin' bent on me marryin' her, eh? And the old man might shoot me too, if'n I don't do right by her. I can't see lettin' that happen!

So maybe I should, like, bite the bullet and do it...

It would be majerly cool to have some little McBride kids runnin' around here, and I know that if I had a son I could, like, teach him all the stuff he needs to know, like, about growin' dope and drivin' snowmobiles and rollin' smokes and stuff. I could, like, groom him, eh? To, like, follow in my footsteps. Or if it was a daoughter, then...well, I would hafta get some advise on that from maybe Officer Dana or someone. There are the talent shows over at the Iron Horse, eh? The girls who win get to be servers there sometimes, long as they can, like, balance a tray with 12 beer on it.

The thing, is...gettin' married is a majer step and ya gotta be preepared to erne a desent livin' for yuerself and the fambly. I can't see Cheryl doin' much besides maybe workin' at the Timmies or the Vareyity store or somethin'...and anyways, she will be havin' to handle the baby fer awhiles...till he gets weened on to the beer, eh?

So that puts the load on me.

This means I am gonna have to take the bull by the mungoberries and bare DOWN!

Amos, as long as a sonnet is about fourteen lines long it qualifies as a sonnet. It's the average number of lines in all sonnets ever written that counts. As long as bar-X for the summation of all lines of all sonnets equals 14, all is well.

That sounds like a pretty prescient set of predictions, Rapparee. Yes, it's going to be difficult for Shane to join the work force, given that he has little or no experience and little or no inclination for it. He really should have been born to some filthy rich family like Penelope Rutledge's and provided with a generous yearly allowance and not have been required to even deal with nasty things like seeking work...

Septer 14 to November 3: Worked for Blind River garbage colection detp. Got let go for missed truk too offen an got in fite with boss.

Finally, Earl will give him a job shoveling snow, digging ditches, cleaning septic tanks, and similar odd jobs. Eventually Shame will see the value of long hours of hard work, give up the booze, and spend his time being fertilizer for daisies.

That picture of Shane's wedding day is absolutely classic, Rapparee, and should bring a tear to the eye of any North Ontarian who sees it. It's going to be a great day for Blind River when Shane McBride finally takes on the mantle of parental responsibility and all the joys and sorrows that go with it.

I want to Welcome Shane McBride into our Family. The Backwaters an the McBride's have been in Ontario fro many years and now these two distingushed famlies will be merjed. With Shane marrying my Little Princess Sheryl he will finaly become a Man, a Man with Famly Responsebilitys and a Man To Be Proud Of. If he don't or hje leaves my Little Princess Sheryl in the Lurj I will have to Take Certain Measures and nail his Nuts to a tree and then shoot him to peeces. Welcome, to my new Son in law!